Remember that badass attitude a few months back? The night before my surgery I felt unstoppable. I just knew this recovery was going to go my way. I knew it was going to be awesome, and I knew I was going to do all the right things to get all the right places. I was not going to be dragged downward by this seemingly perpetual injury. I was going to KICK.ASS.
See what I did there? Alluded to the past tense to hint at the fact that that is not exactly what happened? Nor how I feel any more?
That's because I'm a week away from my 5 month post-op mark and 6 month injury mark. Half a year has gone by since this all happened. And I'm not kicking ass. I'm doing ok. But I'm not killing it by my standards.
My physical therapist told me I'm a good 4 to 6 weeks away from running. This will be the 3rd time I've heard that. It's not my fault. Or anyone else's. My body and muscles and patterns are just stubborn. Go figure. They can't possibly take after me. I'm not amused anymore. I don't have a bad attitude, but I don't have a badass one either. I'm frustrated. I'm inpatient. Sometimes, I'm off-putting. I always hope that I get this one aide in the physical therapy office because he's worked with me from Day 1. He knows the injury, the length of recovery, and...well, me. So when they put the "new guy" on my case, I feel bad for both of us.
"ACLmeniscus."
"3rd one."
"July."
"August."
"Football."
"Yup."
"Nope."
"The left."
Those are my answers to his questions. It's not his fault. I'm sure he's told to be personable and caring and smiley. Unfortunately for him, I'm over that nonsense. I just want to do my exercises, get stronger, and get through this. I doubt anyone is sitting in the break room discussing how great my attitude is despite how many times I've already been through this. I'm not sure why I don't respond more appropriately. Someone has to get the brunt of the emotional turmoil, right? I'm sure I make him love his job.
When my PT told me the mark had, once again, been pushed back for running, I sighed out loud, marking my first verbal implication that I was not having a good time anymore. I usually just smile, nod, and ask what else I can do to help my recovery along. "Can I hike?" I asked.
Notagoodidea she said. That put me over the edge. I told her I was frustrated, and that this had happened after my first surgery, which led to my second surgery, and how the F am I supposed to know if I'm recovered if I have never gone more than a few months in 3.5 years without being in ACL recover mode?
She handled me with grace. She kept the tide even, told me that when I run, I'm going to run with ease and without pain. She told me I was going to get there and that I wasn't going to have to keep working this hard. And she told me that I'm doing great.
I believe her. And then, stubborn is as stubborn does, I asked if I could walk the stadium steps nearby.
She said yes, as long as I am aware of my gait and pattern when I walk downward.
SCORE.
See what I did there? Alluded to the past tense to hint at the fact that that is not exactly what happened? Nor how I feel any more?
That's because I'm a week away from my 5 month post-op mark and 6 month injury mark. Half a year has gone by since this all happened. And I'm not kicking ass. I'm doing ok. But I'm not killing it by my standards.
My physical therapist told me I'm a good 4 to 6 weeks away from running. This will be the 3rd time I've heard that. It's not my fault. Or anyone else's. My body and muscles and patterns are just stubborn. Go figure. They can't possibly take after me. I'm not amused anymore. I don't have a bad attitude, but I don't have a badass one either. I'm frustrated. I'm inpatient. Sometimes, I'm off-putting. I always hope that I get this one aide in the physical therapy office because he's worked with me from Day 1. He knows the injury, the length of recovery, and...well, me. So when they put the "new guy" on my case, I feel bad for both of us.
"ACLmeniscus."
"3rd one."
"July."
"August."
"Football."
"Yup."
"Nope."
"The left."
Those are my answers to his questions. It's not his fault. I'm sure he's told to be personable and caring and smiley. Unfortunately for him, I'm over that nonsense. I just want to do my exercises, get stronger, and get through this. I doubt anyone is sitting in the break room discussing how great my attitude is despite how many times I've already been through this. I'm not sure why I don't respond more appropriately. Someone has to get the brunt of the emotional turmoil, right? I'm sure I make him love his job.
When my PT told me the mark had, once again, been pushed back for running, I sighed out loud, marking my first verbal implication that I was not having a good time anymore. I usually just smile, nod, and ask what else I can do to help my recovery along. "Can I hike?" I asked.
Notagoodidea she said. That put me over the edge. I told her I was frustrated, and that this had happened after my first surgery, which led to my second surgery, and how the F am I supposed to know if I'm recovered if I have never gone more than a few months in 3.5 years without being in ACL recover mode?
She handled me with grace. She kept the tide even, told me that when I run, I'm going to run with ease and without pain. She told me I was going to get there and that I wasn't going to have to keep working this hard. And she told me that I'm doing great.
I believe her. And then, stubborn is as stubborn does, I asked if I could walk the stadium steps nearby.
She said yes, as long as I am aware of my gait and pattern when I walk downward.
SCORE.
So today, on the 3rd day of the year, I took a long walk. And then headed to the stadium steps. And then walked 10 sets.
I was completely out of breath. It was sunny, but cold, but beautiful, and bright, and everything felt good. Did it hurt? Ya. It did a little bit. I took my time. And with that, it took me a while.
...which got me to thinking. Maybe I should savor the ride a little bit more. I know why I prefer a bootcamp style workout as opposed to a walk. It takes less time. It's efficient. Maybe I've forgotten that time is only my enemy if I make it as such. So, yes. I walked the stadiums. Very slowly and carefully. And I enjoyed myself and smiled at everyone who ran or walked by me. It wasn't that I couldn't run them, it was that I could take the time to walk them.
I have been so hung up on getting to be able to run and forcing my way into full recovery that I've forgotten what I told myself at the beginning. To be thankful for the little victories along the way. I sat cross legged on my couch while I was drawing last night and realized I couldn't do that even 2 months ago. I took Larry up a hill and found myself focused on straightening the injured leg because I have the most awesome team of experts who have taught me what to look for and feel for in order to keep my recovery stable. Running is the symbolic pace of my recovery. I'll be ready when I'm ready, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the longer walk to get there.
I'm not ready to run. Would it make me feel better? I would be lying if I said it wouldn't. But I can't change that right now. I can, however, change my filthy outlook and start remembering what I can do. Like take long walks. Which may even lead to some profound thoughts - or close to that. Maybe I become more inclined to enjoy the things that take longer, including my recovery instead of rushing through everything and missing everything that pops up along the way.
I'm sure I'll still have some one-word answers for those who choose to ask me the predictable questions, but maybe it's time I start finding the answers that slow down the conversation a little bit. Maybe I walk them through it rather than run away from it.
And maybe, just maybe, I redefine badass-ness in the form of walking, not running. Afterall, if I have learned anything, patience is truly a virtue that should not be overlooked.
I was completely out of breath. It was sunny, but cold, but beautiful, and bright, and everything felt good. Did it hurt? Ya. It did a little bit. I took my time. And with that, it took me a while.
...which got me to thinking. Maybe I should savor the ride a little bit more. I know why I prefer a bootcamp style workout as opposed to a walk. It takes less time. It's efficient. Maybe I've forgotten that time is only my enemy if I make it as such. So, yes. I walked the stadiums. Very slowly and carefully. And I enjoyed myself and smiled at everyone who ran or walked by me. It wasn't that I couldn't run them, it was that I could take the time to walk them.
I have been so hung up on getting to be able to run and forcing my way into full recovery that I've forgotten what I told myself at the beginning. To be thankful for the little victories along the way. I sat cross legged on my couch while I was drawing last night and realized I couldn't do that even 2 months ago. I took Larry up a hill and found myself focused on straightening the injured leg because I have the most awesome team of experts who have taught me what to look for and feel for in order to keep my recovery stable. Running is the symbolic pace of my recovery. I'll be ready when I'm ready, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the longer walk to get there.
I'm not ready to run. Would it make me feel better? I would be lying if I said it wouldn't. But I can't change that right now. I can, however, change my filthy outlook and start remembering what I can do. Like take long walks. Which may even lead to some profound thoughts - or close to that. Maybe I become more inclined to enjoy the things that take longer, including my recovery instead of rushing through everything and missing everything that pops up along the way.
I'm sure I'll still have some one-word answers for those who choose to ask me the predictable questions, but maybe it's time I start finding the answers that slow down the conversation a little bit. Maybe I walk them through it rather than run away from it.
And maybe, just maybe, I redefine badass-ness in the form of walking, not running. Afterall, if I have learned anything, patience is truly a virtue that should not be overlooked.